


Reveal Myself Invincible

by blondsak



Series: heart and nerve and sinew [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak
Summary: Figuring out who you are isn’t easy for any teenager. But when you’re Peter ParkerandSpider-Man? It’s pretty much impossible.(Set the week before Tony & Peter’s argument in chapter two of “Five Times Peter Parker Pretended to be Asleep”)





	Reveal Myself Invincible

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Vocabulary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/246771) by [innie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/innie/pseuds/innie). 



> This work is inspired by the beautiful Supernatural fanfic Vocabulary by innie, which I first read on fanfiction.net almost 15 years ago and finally found again a few weeks back here on AO3. To innie - thank you so very, very much for signing off on me writing this. You are a truly talented writer and if this fic is even half as good as the one that inspired it I will be over the moon <3
> 
> Title taken from the Neko Case song "Ragtime."
> 
> Lastly, I’m blondsak over on tumblr if you want to chat more about all things Irondad!

**Monday**

“Okay, class, pipe down,” Mr. Greggs calls out amongst the chatter as he connects his laptop to the smart board at the front of the room. Peter turns away from Ned to face the front, mildly curious. It’s their third period history class, and while it’s not Peter’s favorite subject, he does genuinely like the teacher. He watches as Mr. Greggs pulls up Youtube and starts typing into the search bar.

“Are we watching a movie, Mr. Greggs?” Flash asks hopefully from a few rows over.

“As if we have time for a movie in the final ten minutes of class, Mr. Thompson,” Mr. Greggs replies, scrolling through the results. “No, you’ll all be disappointed to hear it’s just a short clip - and aha, there it is.”

‘TONY STARK “I AM IRON MAN” PRESS CONFERENCE 2008’ the title reads, and Peter’s eyes go wide as it begins to play. He’s seen this video before of course, back when it was airing live on May & Ben’s old CRT television. At the time he’d only been seven years old, but he still remembered it like it was yesterday. 

It might have been the day he’d first heard of Tony Stark, but it was definitely the day he’d officially become an Iron Man fan. 

The class watches as Colonel Rhodes passes the mic over to Tony, only for the man to barely get out a few sentences before being interrupted by a reporter. He looks down at his prompt cards, letting out a sigh before going off-script.

 _“I'm just not the hero type, clearly,_ ” Tony says as Peter’s class follows along, enraptured despite having seen it dozens of times over the years. _“With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made - largely public…”_ At this point Rhodey leans in and whispers something to Tony, who seems to nod and reply in the affirmative before looking back down at his cards. _“The truth is…”_

Tony pauses, and Peter can’t help but grin at the way his mentor’s eyes blaze with conviction as he looks into the camera. He mouths the next line with him. 

_“I am Iron Man.”_

The reporters immediately jump to their feet and begin yelling questions, but Mr. Greggs pauses the video just then, closing his laptop and standing up before the class.

“So who all in here has seen that clip before?” Almost everyone raises their hand.

“And who in here watched that press conference live?” Peter and Ned both raise their hands, but as Peter looks around he sees they’re the only two. 

Mr. Greggs nods as though that was what he expected. “Y’know, Tony Stark probably has hundreds of press conferences available to watch on Youtube alone, not to mention the celebrity gossip clips, the interviews, the scandalous caught-on-tape moments... But that specific video has ninety-six million views. Ninety-six _million_. Why do you think so many people have watched that clip in the years since it first aired? Any ideas?”

A hand shoots up. “Go ahead, Miss Brant.”

“Well, because Tony Stark _is_ Iron Man, sir,” Betty says as though it were obvious. “I mean, he basically saved all our lives in 2012 plus he’s been doing all sorts of heroic stuff since then as part of the Avengers. He’s a living legend now, but it all began there.”

“That he is, Miss Brant, thank you,” Mr. Greggs agreed. “Now, can anyone tell me any details about Tony Stark’s life before he was Iron Man? Any specific inventions? Biographical details?” then when Peter’s hand starts to raise adds, “Besides you, Mr. Parker.” 

Peter lowers his hand, blushing. Clearly the news of his “internship” had gotten around among the school’s faculty. When nobody else pipes up, Mr. Greggs nods once more as though unsurprised.

“Tony Stark, some of you might be surprised to know, was once more famous for his advanced weaponry and close ties to the U.S. military than for anything else. So famous he was dubbed the ‘Merchant of Death’ by the media. As a young man in the 90s, I certainly didn’t think he was anything more than a rich playboy and warmonger.” Mr. Greggs walks away from the smart board and over to a smaller blackboard, picking up a piece of chalk and writing out ‘I AM IRON MAN’ before continuing on. “But, you all know the rest of the story, I’m sure. Following his capture in Afghanistan, something must have changed for him, because he definitely set out to change history. ‘I am Iron Man’ is an iconic moment not because of the moment itself, but because of how Tony Stark went on to make it so. And one thing’s for sure: there would be nowhere _near_ 96 million views of that press conference had Tony Stark not lived up to that self-declaration.”

Mr. Greggs pauses, looking around the room. “My point, class, is that sometimes history is defined by unforeseen events, and other times we get the opportunity to define it ourselves, by first determining who we want to be and then actually _being_ that person.” He picks up the chalk again and underlines ‘I AM’. “So, your assignment for this week is simple, at least in concept. I want you all to finish the sentence ‘I am’ in reference to yourself. Really consider what you want to define you as you make your way through life. And I’m not looking for essays - just one word, or two if you use an article. For example, ‘I am the bomb.’”

The class laughs as Mr. Greggs continues, “I know it seems easy, but I want you to give real thought to who you are. Or perhaps who you want to prove yourself to be. Is that person who you already are, or is it somebody you want to work toward? Is it somebody you’re working toward now?”

The bell rings, and the students jump up from their seats. In the din Peter hears Mr. Greggs yell out, “I expect your assignments to be handed in on index cards this Friday. And please, people, take this seriously! Tony Stark obviously did, and look at him now.”

\--

Peter and Ned are at lunch when Ned leans in conspiratorially, his voice a mere whisper. “So what about, _I am Spider-Man?_ ”

Peter laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah right Ned, and announce my secret to everyone for what, a five point assignment? Not that anyone would believe me.”

“Mr. Greggs might!” Ned says.

“Mr. Greggs might what?” MJ says, coming up from behind and plopping her tray down on the other side of Ned. 

Peter splutters. “Mr. Greggs might, uh, think all my ideas for our assignment are bad?”

“No doubt,” MJ quips. “But don’t worry, Parker, I got you covered. How about _I am transparent?_ ”

Peter’s eyes crinkle up. “Why would you say that?”

MJ silently stares at him for a few painfully long seconds, and Peter can’t help but feel a bit exposed under the scrutiny. “No reason,” she finally says, turning back to her lunch.

“What are you going to do, MJ?” Ned asks.

“Still deciding,” she replies, opening her milk. “ _I am a Nasty Woman_ has a nice ring to it.”

“What about _I am an artist_?” Peter asks, only to get an appraising glance from MJ. “I just mean, you’re a really good artist, like the best in the school, so-”

“I feel a lot more strongly about my political beliefs than I do about my art, Parker,” MJ interrupts, but there’s a hint of a smile there too. She tucks back a few strands of hair as she softly adds, “Thanks though, I guess.”

“Y-yeah, of course,” Peter says, softly smiling in kind. The two of them continue to stare at one another until Ned, looking back and forth between them, loudly clears his throat. 

Peter glances over to him and notes his amused expression, feeling his ears turning red in response. He scrambles for something to say. “So, uh, what are you thinking about doing, Ned?”

“Oh, I figured out mine right away,” Ned replies, setting down his fork before declaring, “ _I am body positive_.”

After a few moments MJ says, “Wow, that’s actually not bad, nerd.”

“Thanks!” Ned chirps, basking in the praise.

“And you, Parker? Since you didn’t seem keen on my suggestion.”

“I dunno,” Peter mumbles, shaking his head. “I really have no clue what to do, to be honest.”

Peter continues to pick at his meatloaf, lost in thought. _I am sixteen... I am smart... I am into sci-fi... I am friendly... I am curious..._ He considers options after option, but nothing really feels right. 

He’s starting to wonder just how well he knows himself after all.

“You’ll think of something,” Ned says after a few minutes, his optimism never faltering. “If worse comes to worse, just put a bunch of adjectives in a hat and pick one at random.”

“You heard what Mr. Greggs said though. It should _mean_ something, like it did for Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t sweat it so much,” MJ replies. “We’re not all rich and powerful like your boss. Besides, not everyone can literally save the world.” 

Peter chews on his lip. _I am a nobody._ “Yeah,” he finally says. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

 

**Tuesday, post afternoon patrol**

Peter lands gracefully on the tower balcony, grabbing his backpack from where he’d left it on the landing for safekeeping hours earlier before softly padding over to the door. Through the windows he could see a few of the Avengers hanging around the communal area. Clint and Steve are mulling about in the kitchen. Stepping inside, Peter immediately picks up on the tantalizing aroma of tarragon chicken. The two men flit between the various pots and pans, their movements almost like a choreographed dance, proof of how easy they work together as a team.

Natasha is splayed out on one of the couches, reading a book. Even though he sees her a few times a week, Peter still can’t help but marvel at her casual beauty, how effortlessly she carries herself even when lazing around in sweats. _I am plain._

“Heya Pete,” he hears to his left. He turns to see Tony emerging from the elevator, oil stains still drying on his white tank. “You got perfect timing, kid. FRIDAY just told me that dinner’s almost ready. Why don’t you go get changed and join us?”

Ten minutes later he returns from his bedroom to find everyone already seated and passing around dishes. He sits down between Tony and Natasha, putting his napkin in his lap.

“Hi Peter, how was your patrol?” Natasha asks, handing him a bowl.

“Hey, Miss Romanoff,” Peter greets, adding heaps of green beans to his plate. “It was actually really good today! I convinced a guy in Woodhaven not to steal the car he was breaking into. Usually they try to fight or run, y’know, but I think he knew who I was maybe? Because he just said ‘don’t hurt me’ and dropped the metal rod.”

“I have to say, that wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Bruce says around a mouthful of potatoes. “I overheard some guys in Bryant Park just today talking about Spider-Man and watching Youtube videos of you. I think you’re gaining quite the reputation, Peter.”

Peter smiled before ducking his head, blushing at the compliment. _I am... impressive?_

“Hey Cap,” Clint pipes up, “when you gonna let the kid join us on a mission?”

Peter laughs nervously at the suggestion, but can’t help stealing a hopeful glance at Steve, who seems to actually be considering it.

“Spider-baby has to graduate from middle school first, eh kid?” Sam quips, sending a wink in Peter’s direction.

Peter scoffs. “I’m in tenth grade, Mr. Wilson, which you totally-”

“Quit giving the kid grief, birdbrain,” Tony says, pointing his fork at Sam. “He might be young still but he’ll be running the Avengers some day, mark my words. SI too, if he’d like. But for now he just wants to be a friendly neighborhood spider-kid, right Pete?”

“Well, I dunno Mr. Stark,” Peter replies, glancing again at Steve, missing the way Tony frowns as he looks between the two of them. “Might be good training to go on a mission.”

“It’s not a bad-” Steve starts to say but Tony talks right over him, putting a firm hand on Peter’s shoulder and drawing his attention.

“No-go, Pete. Winghead over there might be in charge of the team but _I’m_ in charge of you. And I say you’re not ready for that yet.”

“Oh c’mon, Tony,” Steve says, gesturing to Peter. “The kid’s shown improvement with every weekend of training and we’ve all seen footage from his patrols. Not to mention saving all of our tech from the Vulture a few months back.”

“I said _no_ , and that’s final,” Tony says forcefully, looking back down at his plate and stabbing into his chicken. There’s silence around the table, everyone watching him as he chews. It’s only once he’s about to take another bite that he looks up again, meeting Steve’s gaze with his own steely one. “Got something else to say, Cap?”

Peter gives Steve his best puppy eyes, thinking maybe he won’t give in, that he’ll see how much this means to Peter. _I am endearing._

But Steve doesn't even glance at Peter. Instead he and Tony stare each other down for a few moments, everyone waiting with baited breath, before Steve’s expression noticeably softens and he lets out a sigh. “No, I don’t.” 

He turns to Peter. “Sorry Queens, this one’s up to Tony for now.”

\--

After they finished eating Tony had shrugged off the tension, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders with a genuine smile and guiding him toward the lab. Perhaps as some sort of consolation - or distraction - Tony offered to let Peter work with him on the nanoparticle configs for the Mark 50 booster wings. It hadn’t been a bad ploy, and for a few hours they worked together companionably. Yet Peter found he couldn’t shake off the conversation from earlier. 

It simply didn’t make sense to him why Tony would be so vehement. He’d been the one to make the Iron Spider for Peter just a few months ago, to offer him a spot on the team. And while it was true Peter had turned him down then, he was eager to prove himself to the team now. So what’s changed that Tony won’t let him? It’s just one mission, after all. _I am frustrated._

“Hey, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, turning to where Tony is bent over a worktable, scrutinizing a small lump of nano pieces that are pulling apart and re-forming at his command. 

“Yeah, kid, what’s up?”

“Why don’t you want me to join you guys on Avengers missions?”

Tony’s back muscles tense up as he straightens, taking a few long breaths before he turns around. “I was really hoping we could move on from that, Pete. The answer is no.” 

_I am coddled_. Peter can’t help the groan that barrels out of his throat. “But, why not? I mean, you were the one who invited me to join the team in September-”

“An invitation that I deeply regret. I shouldn’t have put that idea in your head, or hell, given you the option at all. Now can we please drop this?”

Peter folds his arms, doing his best to hold in his mounting anger. “But I just… I don’t understand. How was I ready then and I’m not ready now?”

Tony lets out his own groan. “You _weren’t_ ready then, Pete. I had no business even asking.”

“But-”

“ _No._ We’re done talking about this. You’re just a kid. A sixteen year-old _child._ What is so hard to understand about that?”

Peter’s mouth closes so fast his teeth click. He looks away from Tony’s imploring gaze and down at the floor, feeling tears forming behind his eyes. _I am a baby._ “S-so what, now that you’ve spent more time around me you think I’m some immature teenager who can’t take care of themselves, is that it? Or-”

Tony shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying, Pete,” then almost to himself, he mutters, “God, Pepper’s right, I am really bad at this.” 

Tony rubs at his forehead for a second before walking over to where Peter’s standing, eyes still planted firmly on the floor. Tentatively, he puts a hand on the teen’s chin and gently lifts it, Peter’s head tipping up until he has no choice but to look at Tony.

“Listen, that’s _not_ what I meant, okay? I mean, you are still a kid, but. Look, what I’m trying to say is that I can’t have you out there and fighting on missions yet because it’s, well. It’s the real deal, Peter. It’s more than a small-time mugging or robbery, it can be seriously _dangerous_. Life-threateningly dangerous. And when it comes to you, kiddo, I-”

Whatever he’s about to say next is interrupted by Peter’s cell phone ringing. Both he and Tony glance to where it sits on the work table to see the screen light up with May’s name.

Knowing he’ll just embarrass himself more if he stays, Peter turns back to Tony, stepping away slightly. “She’s probably wondering when I’ll be home. I, uh, I should probably get going.”

Tony looks like he wants to say more but after a few moments he nods, awkwardly patting Peter’s shoulder before turning back to his work table. “All right, Pete. I’ll see you in a few days. You’ll be back Friday night for weekend training, yeah?”

“Sure, Mr. Stark. I’ll see you then,” Peter dully responds, gathering his stuff and heading for the elevator. 

He’s nearly there when he hears Tony call out, voice almost nervous, “For what it’s worth, kid, I meant what I said at dinner. You’ll be leading the Avengers one day, no doubt about it.” 

_I am the future_. It would be a nice thought too, if only it didn’t make him feel so dejected in the present.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter softly replies before entering the elevator. He doesn’t turn back around until the doors are fully closed, avoiding what he is certain can only be a pitying expression on his mentor’s face.

 

**Wednesday, early evening**

Wednesday nights are Thai takeout night with May, a tradition they started after Ben died and have kept up faithfully since. Normally Peter cherishes this one-on-one time with his aunt, when they can just hang out and neither of them have to worry about school, or work, or Spider-Man. But just as he was all day at school, he finds himself endlessly replaying the night before in his head as he mindlessly picks at his fried rice.

Peter feels hurt, there’s no doubt. The way Tony had so readily dismissed any conversation - had completely shut down first at dinner and then again in the lab - would have made anyone feel disregarded. But if he’s honest, he mostly feels shame.

He thinks back to all the times he’s hung out with Tony since the Vulture incident. All the times he’d stumbled over his words, or missed a mark during training, or otherwise humiliated himself. He thought he’d been doing well, that he’d been improving both in his skills as well as in the eyes of his mentor. But apparently all those weekends and evenings together had accomplished was convincing Tony that Peter really was just a kid who couldn’t be trusted to take care of himself. A child who couldn’t protect his teammates, or worse, would only put them in further danger when he inevitably screwed up.

The truth, Peter can admit now, is that Tony is right. Because who is Spider-Man - a small-time vigilante who simply got lucky against one mid-tier bad guy - compared to a great defender of earth like Iron Man? Hell, who even is Peter Parker, a frankly forgettable kid from Queens, compared to Tony Stark, arguably the smartest and bravest man in generations? _I am unworthy._

Peter’s pulled from his thoughts when a skewered piece of chicken suddenly appears in his vision, waving beneath his nose. 

“Satay for your thoughts?” May asks with a grin, one eyebrow quirked. 

Peter gives a small smile, taking the satay from her hand. “Thanks, May.”

May’s grin falters a bit at his expression. She reaches out and runs a gentle hand through Peter’s hair. “Sweetheart, I can tell when something is really bothering you. You do know you can talk to me about anything?”

Peter nods, considering. He doesn’t really want to talk about it but he promised May after she found out about Spider-Man that he wouldn’t keep secrets anymore. _I am trying._

“It’s just something Mr. Stark said last night.”

May frowns. “Uh oh, do I need to make a phone call? Or I could show up at the tower and _really_ scare the crap out of him?”

“Oh god, no. _Please_ don’t do that,” Peter pretends to beg, recognizing she’s only joking. 

May laughs. "Well, don’t leave me in suspense. What did he say?”

“So, you know how he asked me in September if I wanted to be an Avenger? And I said no, right? And I haven’t changed my mind, but I still feel like I could help out sometimes, y’know? But now Mr. Stark won’t even let me go along on a mission, even though Captain Rogers and the others think I’m ready.”

“Did he say why?”

“Kind of? He said it’s because I’m just a kid. But I was a kid three months ago too…” Peter takes another bite of his satay before miserabally adding, “I guess he thinks I’m less mature than he first thought.”

May quirks her lips, expression turning thoughtful. “Hm. I can see why you’re so confused, Peter. And I can’t speak for Tony, but I personally don’t think that’s what he meant.” Peter glances up, and at his curious expression she continues, “I think it might have been his way of saying he’s grown fond of you and doesn’t want to see you hurt, just like I don’t.”

Peter shrugs, thinking over her words. “But he’s Tony Stark, May. What about me would make him...” He waves a lazy hand, gesturing at himself and hoping she’ll get his meaning.

“Care about you?” May asks after a few seconds, before making a theatrically curious face, putting a finger up to her lips. “Hm, let’s see. Maybe because you’re kind to everyone you meet? Or maybe because you’re ridiculously smart and can keep up with him when you guys do whatever science stuff you get up to? Or maybe because you’re one of the sweetest kids around and it makes everyone who meets you just want to pinch your cheeks?”

She reaches out as if to do just that and Peter swats at her with the now empty skewer stick, laughing.

May turns serious again, gaze softening. “Peter, I can think of a million reasons why anyone, even Tony Stark, would grow to care about you. You weren’t my kid either when you first came to live with us, but it didn’t take long for me to come to see you as my son.”

 _I am loved_. “Thanks, May,” he says with a genuine smile. “I just... I get that Mr. Stark might feel responsible for me or whatever, but it’s not like I’d be alone. He’d be there, and so would the rest of the team. They’d look out for me, and maybe I could help look out for them too. I know I’m not ready to go on every mission yet, but why can’t I just go on one?”

“I know it’s hard, sweetheart,” May says. “But don’t discount Tony’s feelings where you’re concerned either. Whatever his reasons, I’m certain he has your best interests at heart.” 

May glances at her phone only to quickly rise out of her chair. “Oh gosh, it’s a bit later than I expected. I gotta get ready for work.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrow. “But it’s Wednesday. You never go into work on Wednesday nights.”

May goes to put her dishes in the sink. “Well, the option for some overtime came up and I figured a bit of extra cash can’t hurt, y’know?” 

May tried to sound casual but Peter still grimaces. He knows Ben’s life insurance payout has been dwindling down, but he didn’t realize things were so bad May was taking on extra work. He thinks of the night Ben died, how he hadn't been able to save him. And now here May is, working extra hours and getting hardly any rest and it’s all his fault. 

May goes to leave the kitchen, but stops first to caress Peter’s cheek, running her fingers through his hair fondly. Her expression is apologetic when she says, “I’m sorry Peter, I know this is usually our night together. But I really couldn’t pass it up.”

 _I am a burden_. Peter forces himself to smile. “I understand, May. I larb you.”

May kisses his forehead. “I larb you too, sweetheart.”

As May disappears into her bedroom, Peter wonders if he’s nothing more than an albatross around Tony’s neck too. Maybe in the end his dreams of being an Avenger are nothing but a joke, and everyone is just too kind to say so.

 

**Thursday night**

Despite May’s reassurances the night before, Peter can’t shake off the growing self-doubt following him around. All day at school his certainty mounts that he is simply not good enough to be Spider-Man, let alone an Avenger. It doesn’t help that Ned pulls up a _Daily Bugle_ article condemning the vigilante as a “menace” at lunch, but still. Peter isn’t sure if he’ll ever live up to the person New York City - or Tony - want him to be. _I am deficient._

Going out to patrol that evening isn’t much of a comfort, but at least it’s familiar to get lost in the chaos of the city. Peter is swinging around the very western edge of Queens when he hears the sound of raised voices down near the navy yard. Without missing a beat he propels himself farther south, crawling silently to the edge of an old warehouse by the docks and peering around the corner.

Four men with hand guns are standing in a row facing away from the bay, a semi-truck cab idling with its headlights on directly behind them near the water’s edge. They’re brandishing their weapons at two other men who are kneeling before them, bags over their heads. The kidnapped men are both visibly shaking in fear, begging for mercy. Peter only has to listen for a few moments to know this is a drug deal gone bad. A rather expensive drug deal, he supposes, if these men are willing to kill not one but two people over it.

“No time like the present,” he whispers to Karen before jumping down. 

“Hey guys, did nobody teach you in school not to fall in the _crack?_ ” he greets while firing webs out from each of his shooters simultaneously, yanking two of the weapons from their owner’s hands. There’s a lot of yelling as the other two drug dealers point their guns at him while the now weaponless ones cower behind the trailer-truck. He jumps out of the way of the bullets, landing behind the two armed men and clocking their heads together, knocking them both out. 

“Sorry, sorry!” he screeches as they fall limply to the ground. He glances over to where the two kidnapped men had been kneeling and sees they’ve fled. 

“Remember, choose math, not meth!” he yells out, just in case they’re still close enough to hear. “Or hugs, not drugs! Those work too!”

He heads for the water where he knows the two remaining men are cowering between the back of the vehicle and the bay’s edge. “C’mon guys, we can do this the easy way or the - uh, where’s your buddy?” he asks, seeing only one drug dealer standing there, his arms held out in front of him in fear. 

Just then Peter is interrupted by the sound of the semi cab’s engine rumbling before the vehicle is suddenly going in reverse, barreling toward them both. In the corner of his eye Peter watches as the missing dealer hurls himself out of the driver’s seat. Peter has about half a second to jump out of the way, which is plenty of time for him but won’t save the man still cowering who is also in the vehicle’s path. Making a split-second decision, he lunges for the criminal, pushing him out of the way of the cab just as it connects with Peter’s side, his arm taking the brunt of the impact as he goes flying.

Peter feels his shoulder pop out of his socket but doesn’t have time to consider the pain as he is flung into the water. He can feel the vibrations of Karen’s voice in his ear but can’t make out her muffled sounds as his body glances off the shallow bed of the bay. Instinctively he flails toward the surface only to his head on something metallic and hard that is fast bearing down on him.

 _Oh god, the cab!_ he thinks as the weight of the massive vehicle forces him onto his back. He tries to shimmy out from underneath but only manages to get his head and injured arm out of the way before the full weight of the truck cab has him pinned to the weedy bottom. 

_Oh no. Help me!_

He attempts to heave upward with his trapped arm and legs, trying desperately to get the crushing weight off himself. When he goes to move his injured arm though, it just lays there. Having been popped out of its socket, he realizes, it’s now completely useless. Which means he has no leverage with which to push.

Karen is still vibrating in his ear, and he tries to calm himself down, focusing on holding his breath. After all, this isn’t the first time he’s landed himself in water, hot _or_ cold, right? Karen will alert Tony and he’ll send a suit and everything will be _fine_. He just has to hold his breath long enough for help to arrive. He’s not entirely sure if he took a breath that his lungs would even inflate, due to the pressure on his chest.

He tries to focus on Karen again, see if he can make out what she’s saying, and quickly realizes that the trilling vibrations are in a steady rhythm as if she’s trying to make a call, attempting to alert his mentor to his distress. But the vibrations carry on with a depressingly familiar steadiness, with no indication Tony is picking up or has even been alerted.

It’s been well over a minute now and still there’s no tell-tale reactor lighting up the quiet darkness surrounding him. As the seconds pass, Peter feels his lungs starting to scream from the lack of oxygen. The panic intensifies fast as he struggles not to try to breathe. _Oh god, Mr. Stark, please!_

_I am scared._

For the second time in less than three months, Peter is trapped and alone. Only now there is no time to psych himself up, no time to consider whether he’s cut out to be Spider-Man, no time to contemplate if he should give up. 

There is only keep fighting, or accept death. 

As the last of his air bubbles past his lips, Peter gathers all his remaining strength and lifts his trapped body with all his might. With a creaking groan, the cab rises barely a foot, but that’s all Peter needs to roll himself out. He kicks messily toward the surface, breaking it just in time to take a large gulp of air. He kicks toward the nearby dock, pulling himself up and over the side using his good arm, only to collapse there hacking and staring up at a starless sky.

“Oh... my... god,” he whispers, taking a few more deep breaths as he feels his heart rate slow down. “Oh my god… that was so frickin’ _cool!_ ”

_I am a fighter._

He stands up and without even thinking wraps his good arm around the back of his head and grips his injured shoulder. With a _yank_ the shoulder pops back into its socket. It stings fiercely but the adrenaline from nearly dying is still raging through Peter’s veins and his mind barely registers it.

“Hell yeah! Take that, world!” he cries, letting out a whoop. “I’m _Spider-Man!_ ”

Just then there’s a trilling in his ear, and before Karen can tell him who it is the sound cuts off and he hears Tony, breathing hard. “Kid! Peter? Are you okay?”

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter greets cheerfully, still grinning. “What’s up?”

“ _What’s up?_ What’s up is that FRIDAY was offline for six minutes for upgrades - _six minutes_ \- only to reboot and announce there were five emergency alerts and three missed calls from your suit. So how about _you_ tell me what’s up? Are you hurt?”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that!” Peter casually replies. “But, everything’s good. Great, even.”

A long-suffering sigh on the other end. “Damnit, Peter, this is _serious_. Are you in trouble? Because I swear to god, kid, I’ll be there in 45 seconds if you don’t tell me what the hell just happened.”

Peter opens his mouth, ready to spill the whole story, only to pause. It’s not that he doesn’t want to share with Tony, not exactly. It’s more that it’s something he can’t put a name to quite yet. But whatever it is, it’s intoxicating. Invigorating. Like an incredible secret between him and the world. 

It’s maybe as close to _confident_ as Peter has felt in his entire life.

“It got dicey for a minute there but I handled it, so please don’t worry, okay Mr. Stark? And I promise that I’m truly, honestly, one-hundred percent good. I mean, how could I not be? I’m _Spider-Man_.”

There’s two beats of silence before a soft chuckle sounds in his ears. “You sure are, kid. My favorite masked crusader of them all, hands down.”

Peter blushes at that. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

There’s a few moments of silence on the other end, before Tony lets out a soft sigh. “Karen is reporting some strained shoulder muscles but that seems to be it.” Another pause. “Alright, Pete. You’re off the hook for the time being, but I want the details later. For now, get on home and get some rest, you hear me? One heart attack per spider-baby patrol is enough for my ticker.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Stark.”

“Happy trails, kid.”

Tony hangs up, another conversation between them over before it had hardly begun. But unlike Tuesday, Peter doesn’t feel dismissed or hurt. Maybe May had a point about Tony’s feelings, after all. _I am protected._

Swinging home, he thinks about how Mr. Stark had proclaimed himself Iron Man. How he made up his mind who he was, everyone else’s opinions be damned, and then followed through on it. And the universe listened. 

It’s time, Peter thinks, that he decides once and for all who he is, too.

 

**Friday**

**Tony Stark (12:37 AM):** _Hey underoos. I just watched Karen’s footage. I’ll admit, I’m a little vexed that you undersold exactly how ‘dicey’ a situation you were in. But you were right - you had it handled._  
**Tony Stark (12:43 AM):** _I’ve given it some more thought and against my better judgment I’ve decided you can try a mission. But there ARE ground rules:_  
**Tony Stark (12:44 AM):** _1\. You listen to everything I tell you to do._  
**Tony Stark (12:44 AM):** _2\. You do not question me._  
**Tony Stark (12:45 AM):** _3\. You listen to everything I tell you to do and you do not question me._  
**Tony Stark (12:47 AM):** _You mess any of those up even once and you won’t be on the team until you’re old enough to run for president, got it? But for now, one mission._  
**Tony Stark (12:57 AM):** _You’re doing really good, kid. I’m proud of you._  
**Spider-Kid (7:07 AM):** _REALLY?! =D_  
**Spider-Kid (7:07 AM):** _Thank you so so much Mr. Stark!!!!!_  
**Spider-Kid (7:12 AM):** _So I just have to listen to everything Captain Rogers tells me to do and not question him, right? :))))))_  
**Tony Stark (7:41 AM):** _> :(_  
**Tony Stark (7:42 AM):** _You do realize you can’t legally run for president until you’re 35, right? What are they even teaching you in that school?_  
**Spider-Kid (8:06 AM):** _How to be more like you :)_  
**Tony Stark (8:08 AM):** _Very funny, underoos._  
**Spider-Kid (8:09 AM):** _:)_  
**Tony Stark (8:11 AM):** _Are you serious, kid?_  
**Spider-Kid (8:14 AM):** _:)_  
**Tony Stark (8:15 AM):** _Huh._  
**Tony Stark (8:17 AM):** _Guess I’ll have to double that annual donation._

\--

Class is nearly over when Peter fishes out an index card from his backpack. 

Even now, he isn't sure what he should write. Because where does the regular teenager Peter Parker meet the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? What word can possibly sum up both of their wants and needs, can reconcile who they are together and what they mean to him?

Grasping onto the only thing he can think of that feels right, he scrawls it out quickly as the rest of class leaves their cards in a pile on Mr. Greggs’ desk and file out. As Peter puts his card down, he is intercepted by the man himself, who deftly snags it from his hand. He reads it over twice before giving Peter a small, knowing smile.

“Looking to follow in your boss’s footsteps, Mr. Parker?”

Peter smiles, glancing away sheepishly before shaking his head and meeting Mr. Greggs’ gaze head-on. “No disrespect to Mr. Stark, sir, but I think I’m going to figure out my own way.”

_Yeah, this feels right._

His teacher nods appreciatively. “Good man, Peter.” 

Peter watches as Mr. Greggs sets his index card on top of the pile, before disappearing through the door with a wave and letting himself get lost in the crowd.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated <3<3<3
> 
> (Also: I respond to all comments so if you comment sans profile/anon, come back in a day or two and check for a response - there should be one! <3)


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